If Everyone Cared
by macrauchenia
Summary: "If everyone cared and nobody cried/If everyone loved and nobody lied/If everyone shared and swallowed their pride/Then we'd see the day when nobody died" - 'If Everyone Cared' by Nickelback


**Individual Title:** Letting Go  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own the Gone Series by Michael Grant and I do not own the song 'If Everyone Cared' by Nickelback. **  
><strong>**Time Frame: **Sometime right after the fishers establish themselves. So post Hunger?  
><strong>Authors Note: <strong>This is kinda similar to 'GoneShots' but more OCs than cannon folks. It was orginially just going to be drabbles, but I can't write drabbles and I had to add a plot. So instead it'll be a collection of oneshots about kids helping (or not helping) each other in the FAYZ.

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><p>Long or styled hair was a thing in past. With the lack of running and fresh water, showers had become nonexistent. A few people had tried using shampoo with the salty water from the ocean but that never seemed to work well. Hair soon became a bother. It was hot; it was sticky; it was an attraction for parasitic creatures; it smelled. The only thing hair used to be good for was impressing member of the opposite gender. Now that looking good was rather low on the priorities list compared to surviving and not starving, long hair had no purpose in the FAYZ. It only got in the way of working and made one look even worse than they already did. The general length for boys' hair was no more than three inches. The average length of hair for girls wasn't much longer.<p>

Mallory Gray had perhaps the longest hair in the FAYZ. It had been long before the wall fell, coming to her elbows, but not ever by the first year of the prison, her hair was impossibly long. She would never cut it. If she did, it would feel like a betrayal and a loss. A betrayal to her mother and the loss of her last desperate grasp on life before the FAYZ. Before the FAYZ, her mother would always coo about her golden hair. Her mother told her that it was her most beautiful feature. The natural highlights brought out the pink in her cheeks, the blue of her eyes. Mallory hated her hair before the FAYZ. She hated how often she would have to clean it; she hated how long it took each day to brush it; she hated how often it got in her way when she wanted to play with the other kids. For about ten minutes before school each day and ten minutes before bed, Mallory's mother would sit her in front of a huge mirror and brush out her hair. The eight year old girl could always think of something more fun and exciting to do than that.

But even though Mallory hated her hair, she loved her mother. The young girl didn't understand why her mom loved to play and brush with her hair so much. Maybe because her mother didn't have any hair for herself. Her mommy told her that she was sick and the medicine to make her better made all of her hair to fall out. It made Mallory think twice about talking cough syrup the next time she had a cold. She noticed that whenever her mom was brushing her hair, her mommy wouldn't be frowning or looking so sad. To keep her mother happy, she would sit quietly as the brush ran through her hair.

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><p><em>One, two, three,<em> Mallory closed her eyes and feeling the brush clean away some of the dirt. The FAYZ wall had trapped them for almost a year already. She was now nine but she still tried to hold onto her mother. Everything about this ritual of combing her hair was the same as it had been a year ago. She always stood in front of a mirror, she always used the same brush, and she always did it twice a day. It took longer than ten minutes now since she was doing it by herself.

_Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two,_ she kept a count of each stroke of the brush. Mallory opened her eyes and stared at her skinny face in the mirror. She was a rather short child and her hair pooled around the back of her knees, making the hair look even longer. Mallory blinked slowly, her face still holding the blank look it kept from the start of the FAYZ.

_Forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one._ Some of the kids called her a weirdo for having such long hair while other kids said they liked it. Her roommate threatened to cut it off in her sleep if she didn't keep it clean and so Mallory made sure her hair was as sleek and shiny as she could get it so it wouldn't be stolen from her. If her hair was taken, so would the memory of her mother.

_Seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine. _She was almost finished. The young girl half wondered why she still did this everyday. If she concentrated, the girl could summon up a weak picture of her mother in her mind. She had long forgotten the sound of her mother's voice. The only thing that remained somewhat familiar was the feel of the brush through her hair. That sensation reminded her of how gentle and calm her mother was. The sad thing was that Mallory knew it was she who was brushing her hair, not her mother. She still liked to pretend it was mother, even when she saw she was the only one in the mirror. She never wanted to let go of the phantom woman.

_Ninety-nine, one hundred._ The girl set the worn brush silently to the side and prepared to leave for her job as a fisher.

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><p>Mallory was working that day in a boat with Quinn. She held her pole and reflected about something when the line gave a jerk. She jumped and tried to reel it in. She was having difficulties and Quinn, who was seated next to her, reached over to help her. The two were about to bring the huge fish above the surface when the line snapped. Quinn was more solid and wasn't too unsettled by the rocking boat. Mallory, however, was much lighter. She stumbled backwards, tripped over one of the benches, and fell near the back of the boat. Her long hair trailed into the water. She took a deep breath when something started to pull on her scalp. A horrible clogging noise filled her ears and Mallory started to scream. Her hair had become wrapped around the propeller. Her scalp burned as three feet of hair threatened to rip free. Her hands flew to the roots of her hair as she tried to keep the top layer of her head on and the million hairs attached. The kids gaped at her in horror and she slid slowly towards the edge of the boat. Quinn fumbled in his pocket before launching himself to the edge of the boat. Ignoring her screams of protest, he quickly uncased his small knife and unevenly cut through her hair. As the last strand broke, the propeller gave a low moaning noise and the hair was dragged overboard. It disappeared, wrapped up in now sluggish blades.<p>

One of the kids awoke from their shocked stupor to shut off the motor. The boat floated softly in the gentle surf, no one saying a word. The other boats noticed something was wrong and started to make their way towards them. With the propeller bogged down with hair, they had to tow it back to shore and fix it. The other three kids got into various boats to continue fishing. Quinn sat with Mallory as it was being towed back. The girl gave a shuddering breath and looked up at Quinn. She sat up slowly and felt the jagged remains of her once beautiful hair. Her entire body shook with the aftershocks of fear and misery.

"It's gone." she whispered in a tiny voice.

Quinn gave her a rueful nod. "Yeah, sorry."

Mallory's tremors worsened and tears brimmed in her eyes. She let out a stifled moan and buried her face into Quinn's shoulder. The fisher patted her awkwardly on her back, murmuring the first comforting things that came into his head. The girl felt so alone. The only tie to her mother was gone.

Mallory pulled away and rubbed her arms. She sniffled and looked down at her feet. "My mom…she's gone."

Quinn pursed his lips together. He put a comforting arm around her shoulders and sighed. "Sometimes it's not good to hold on to something for too long," he said softly. Mallory looked at him and blinked. Quinn continued. "I did and it almost destroyed me. I had to learn to let my family go. Thinking about them all the time was the only way I thought I could still keep them with me. But whenever I brought up my mom or dad in my head, it only made everything worse. I nearly wanted to end my life then and there to see them sooner. What would that have accomplished? I still miss them, but since I've let them go, it's easier to think about them. If I hadn't let them go, I'd be dead right now. Understand?" Mallory sniffled and nodded. She still didn't look convinced. Quinn gave her a sad smile and took the fedora off from his head. It was the same hat he had worn when the FAYZ had fallen. He had been holding on to it like a drowning man, it being the only lifeline to the past. Maybe he needed to let _everything_ go as well. He placed it on her head and she looked shocked.

"It's yours to keep."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. Mallory smiled at him. "Thank you. For saving my life and for talking to me." He shrugged. "You really helped me out a lot. And thank you for the hat." She could tell it meant a lot to him

Quinn shook his head. "No problem. Besides, it looks nice with your new hair cut." Mallory grinned and laughed for the first time during the FAYZ. She felt so light now. Maybe it was because she was missing two pounds of hair.

Or maybe it was because she finally let go.

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><p><strong>Cheeeeeeeessseeeee! Anyway, I hope you guys like this. Kind of morbid, talking about hair. These are pretty easy to write and will probably appear often. Please offer constructive criticism! It's the only way people can get better!<strong>


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